Chapter 40: Trial

Nizara lay in the cold, damp cell, the chains binding his wrists a constant reminder of his captivity. The stone walls surrounding him seemed to close in, trapping him in a world of uncertainty. He could feel the weight of the silence pressing on him, broken only by the occasional sound of distant footsteps or the clanging of armor outside. He shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, trying to find a position that would relieve some of the pain in his back and limbs, but the chains made it impossible to relax. He had lost track of time—how long had it been since they had taken him here? Hours? Days? He couldn't tell.

His throat was dry, parched from the lack of water, and his lips cracked with every breath. Desperation grew within him, the need for even a small sip of water gnawing at his mind. He lifted his head toward the door and called out, his voice hoarse, "Can I get some water?" His words echoed faintly, the silence of the room amplifying his loneliness.

From the other side of the door, a low voice responded with disdain. "No. You're a monster. You don't deserve anything." The guards outside must have been trying to assert their power over him, but Nizara only laughed bitterly to himself. They thought they could break him with such simple tactics? His eyes narrowed as he settled back into the bed, knowing he had to keep his wits sharp. If they were treating him this way now, what would happen when the trial began?

The door suddenly creaked open, and two figures stepped inside—one radiating power, the other cold indifference. High Commander Seraphina entered first. She was a vision of dangerous beauty, tall with an hourglass figure that commanded attention the moment she walked into a room. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, untied and flowing freely, contrasting with the sharpness of her commanding gaze. Her face was flawless, with high cheekbones and full lips that could melt any heart—or crush it without a second thought. Her eyes, dark as midnight, glinted with a seductive, almost taunting look, the kind that made men both fear and desire her. Seraphina's presence was intoxicating, yet there was something ruthless in her smile, a reminder that beneath her beauty, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Following her was Vice High Elara, the complete opposite of Seraphina in demeanor but equally formidable. Elara had long black hair, which fell freely around her face, its dark strands framing her sharp, angular features. Her expression was icy, revealing nothing of her inner thoughts, and her piercing blue eyes were like a frozen lake—cold, unfeeling. She was a woman of few words, but those she spoke always carried weight. Dressed in armor that clung to her athletic frame, Elara carried herself with the discipline of a swordswoman, every movement deliberate and precise. She exuded a quiet power, the kind that could slice through anyone foolish enough to challenge her.

Without a word, the guards unlocked Nizara's chains and pulled him to his feet, their grip tight as they led him out of the cell. His legs were stiff, the movement painful, but he refused to show weakness. He knew this was just the beginning, and he had to stand tall.

Elara spoke in her typical cold tone as they walked. "You are being taken to the courtroom. You will be judged by Prince Alaric, Princess Amara, and King Auzara. Prepare yourself for what's coming."

Nizara remained silent, his mind racing as the sound of his footsteps echoed through the corridor. He wasn't sure what to expect, but he could already sense the eyes of the kingdom upon him, waiting to see if the rumors about his powers were true. The suspicion of dark magic, the whispers in the air—it was all too much. He had known he was different, but until now, he hadn't considered that his powers might be linked to something so dangerous, something so forbidden. The thought sent a chill through his bones, but he couldn't afford to dwell on it now.

The grand doors of the courtroom loomed ahead, massive and imposing. As the guards pushed them open, Nizara was led into the vast chamber. His eyes scanned the room as the doors closed behind him with a thunderous sound. The courtroom was a sight to behold. The walls were lined with marble columns that reached up to a vaulted ceiling, the intricate carvings on the stone depicting battles long past. Tall windows allowed the sunlight to filter in, casting beams of light across the floor. At the far end of the room was a raised dais, where the royal family sat. The presence of nobles, commanders, and high-ranking officials filled the space, their eyes all focused on Nizara as he was brought before them. Guards stood in every corner, their weapons gleaming menacingly.

Nizara was forced to his knees by the guards, the cold stone digging into his skin as they chained him to a pole in the center of the room. He could feel the eyes of the entire court on him, their gazes sharp and judgmental. Some of them were familiar faces, including his comrades—his friends, his fellow warriors—standing in the back. He could see the worry in their eyes, the uncertainty, but he knew they were powerless to intervene.

At the head of the room, King Auzara sat on his throne, regal and imposing. Beside him were Prince Alaric and Princess Amara, their faces unreadable. The king's voice rang out, deep and commanding.

"You stand here today accused of using Dark Magic, a forbidden power that threatens our very kingdom. We have reason to believe you possess this power, and if it is true, your very existence poses a threat to all of us. Your actions have brought us to this point, Nizara."

The words stung, but Nizara refused to flinch. He knew they couldn't prove anything about him, not without evidence. Yet, as the murmurs of the crowd swirled around him, he felt the weight of suspicion press down on his shoulders. The air was thick with anticipation.

A few noblemen began to speak in hushed tones, some whispering their support for a death sentence. Their voices were full of venom, calling for his immediate execution. "End this now," one man muttered. "We can't let him live."

Nizara's lips curled into a twisted smile, and he chuckled softly. His voice rang out, loud enough for all to hear. "You're all a bunch of cowards," he said, his tone laced with contempt. "Afraid of something you don't understand."

A guard stepped forward, seething with anger. "Why are you laughing, prisoner?" he demanded, his voice like gravel. "What's so funny?"

Nizara's grin widened, the smirk never leaving his face. "What's funny?" he repeated, his eyes scanning the crowd. "The fact that all of you are terrified of something you've never seen, never felt. You hide behind your fear, your titles, your power, but deep down you know the truth."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Prince Alaric, clearly enraged, stood up from his seat. He shed his jacket, revealing the powerful muscles beneath, and approached Nizara with a fury that was barely contained.

"You dare speak to me like that?" Alaric's voice was icy, his tone laced with disdain. "You lowly New Worlder. Who do you think you are?"

Without warning, he swung a fist at Nizara's face, connecting with a brutal force that made the air crackle. Nizara's head snapped to the side, blood spilling from his lip as he was forced to remain kneeling, his body trembling from the impact. But his eyes remained defiant.

Alaric didn't stop there. He continued to land blow after blow, his fists relentless as the entire court watched in stunned silence. Emiko, standing near the back, flinched at each strike, her eyes pleading for them to stop, but no one intervened.

Finally, King Auzara raised his hand, his voice commanding the room's attention. "Enough, Alaric. Sit down." His tone was calm, but the authority behind it was undeniable. Alaric paused for a moment, his chest heaving with rage, but he obeyed the king's command and returned to his seat.

Nizara was left bruised and bleeding, his vision blurred by the pain. He could feel the coldness of the stone beneath him, his body a battleground. But his mind was still sharp, still defiant.

King Auzara looked down at him, his gaze unreadable. "You are given a chance, Nizara. Prove your innocence. You will enter the 5K Tournament—the kingdom's most prestigious competition. If you survive and prove that you do not wield Dark Magic, your life will be spared. But should you fail, your fate is sealed."

Nizara's heart skipped a beat. The 5K Tournament—the five kingdoms' largest and most brutal contest. The prize for the victor was legendary: wealth, glory, and the coveted Heavenly Sword. But more than that, it was a chance for survival.

A smirk crossed his bloodied lips as he lifted his head to meet the king's gaze. "Bring it on then," he said, his voice rough but filled with challenge. "I'll show you all what I'm capable of."

And with that, the court fell silent once more, the weight of Nizara's challenge hanging in the air like a storm on the horizon.

*To Be Continued…*